


To Lapse in Judgement

by JirsSnufminArchive



Series: There Will Always be Camellias in Moominvalley [4]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Baby Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Cat Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, Gen, Good Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JirsSnufminArchive/pseuds/JirsSnufminArchive
Summary: Long before Snufkin had first visited Moominvalley, he had lived with his father, travelling around and learning what it was to be a good Mumrik. While the Joxter tries his best for his kit, he finds out that a lapse in judgement can be hard to recover from.





	1. A Mighty Hunter

The Joxter hummed as he walked through the forest. He was travelling the world in search of sights and experiences, as Mumriks are want to do.

Between frustrating authorities, a nice nap in a warm patch of sun, and a comfortably full belly, there wasn’t much more a Mumrik could ask for. 

Well, perhaps the Joxter could ask for a lack of a backpack and tent, he missed sleeping in trees, but he couldn’t really do that, he had to try and be more responsible for his kit. 

He squinted to try and find an out of place cyan blur up ahead that he knew would be his dear Snufkin. 

He couldn’t spot him in the distance and scanned around to see if he’d wandered off to either side of the treeline. 

The Joxter paused and brought a paw to his chin in thought. “Now, where could that silly boy of mine be?” 

With a giggle and the rustle of a tree branch above him, the Joxter felt a weight come down on his hat.

The Joxter gasped. “Oh!! What a world! It seems I’ve become prey to a most mighty hunter!” He called out dramatically before carefully sending himself down onto the ground in defeat. 

“Surely I will be slain right here! Who knew Mumriks were so ill-prepared!” He continued, earning a new bought of giggles from above him. 

The weight on his hat shifted as a pair of comfortable Mymble boots lowered themselves onto his chest and the brim of his hat was pulled up by a little brown paw. 

The Joxter’s cheek was poked and prodded with a little claw, and he laughed. 

“Noo! Prey isn’t supposed to laugh dad! Be scared or something!” Snufkin protested. 

The Joxter could only laugh harder. “Heheh, sorry boy-o, maybe I’ll just perish under your vicious attacks,” He suggested. 

Snufkin grinned and nodded. “Yeah!” His brown eyes sparkled as he continued poking his dad’s cheek. 

“Okay! You’re dead now!” The little Mumrik announced. 

The Joxter flopped his head back and closed his eyes, trying not to smile. 

Snufkin got off his father’s chest and moved beside his head, pulling away his hat and placing it on his own much too small head. 

“From those gone come the spoils of the hunt!” Snufkin giggled, holding up the hat a bit so he could see. 

The Joxter remained on the ground, unmoving from his spot. 

“Okay dad, let’s keep going now!” Snufkin said. 

The Joxter stayed still. 

Snufkin pouted. “Daaad!! You’re not really dead!” 

The Joxter couldn’t help but grin now, but his eyes remained shut. “I don’t know Snufkin, those attacks were pretty powerful, I think I’m done for.” 

Snufkin stomped a foot. “Stop being so silly! I want to go catch something for real now!” 

The Joxter hummed. “Maybe if you returned my hat? I’m not sure what I’d do without it.” 

Snufkin stuck out his tongue but did as asked and placed the big red hat back over the Joxter’s face. 

The Joxter sprung up and immediately scooped up his son. “Hunting it is then!” he grinned. 

“Though we need to find a quieter spot, everything around here is already terrified of such a skilled hunter being around.” 

Snufkin giggled and kicked his feet happily. “Okay!” 

The Joxter lifted Snufkin up and set him on his shoulders before continuing off deeper into the forest. 

“What do you think you want to catch, kiddo?” 

Snufkin thought about it for a bit. “Squirrel hopefully.” 

When they were far enough away, Joxter set Snufkin back down and placed their bag against a tree along with his hat. 

Snufkin was already crouched and ready by time his father made his way over. 

“Do you remember the best way to stalk?” The Joxter whispered, dropping into a crouch beside him. 

Snufkin nodded. “Focus my weight so my paws aren’t noisy,” he replied, moving forward silently. 

He sniffed the air. Snufkin knew his scenting skills weren’t as good as his dad’s, nor would they ever be since he was a half Mymble. Thankfully they were still good enough to make him an effective enough hunter and he caught the scent of a squirrel not too far off. 

The Joxter went off in the opposite direction, giving his son a wide berth to hunt for himself, but ready to strike from the shadow of a tree if the prey escaped toward him. 

Snufkin crept his way further into the forest, following the scent trail. He hoped it was a big squirrel and he could make his dad proud by catching it all on his own. 

With his senses keen and his paws quiet, Snufkin was giddy, ready to satisfy his Mumrik nature through the thrill of the hunt and the promise of a good meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New story! This one is a prequel of sorts set ten years before the events of To Eat Among Trolls, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> If you like this story please let me know what you think and consider reading my other works!


	2. A Mixed Result

As Snufkin crept along, following the scent of the squirrel, he noticed other things too. The woods were thick to his right where his father had disappeared and to his left was a ravine. He could hear the sound of a stream down below. 

Birds chirped and cawed idly and Snufkin gave a small grin. He thought how lucky they were that he hadn’t wanted any birds today, for if he had they would’ve certainly been the Mumriks’ next meal!

Suddenly, he caught sight of it, a bushy brown tail poking up from the grass. He crept up slowly behind it, careful that his footfalls were silent against the forest floor. 

Just as he was about to pounce, the squirrel shot to attention, realizing he was there and took off to the right towards the forest. 

Snufkin chased after it, bounding to try and reach it before it could climb up a tree. 

The squirrel was fast and nearly made it to the tree before the Joxter appeared in front, frightening the squirrel back in the opposite direction toward his son. 

The Joxter didn’t join the chase, wanting to let his little Snufkin have the practice. 

The squirrel careened past Snufkin before the little Mumrik could correct his course. He quickly righted himself and raced after it, his little claws extended, ready to sink into the squirrel. 

When the gap between them had closed, Snufkin made his leap, crashing right onto the squirrel with his claws outstretched. 

He had been careless, however, and the momentum of the jump sent him and the squirrel tumbling over the ravine. 

The Joxter saw as it happened and raced across the small stretch of forest as quick as he could and slid down the ravine, scanning desperately for his son. 

The Joxter breathed a deep sigh of relief as he found Snufkin fallen into the stream, sodden and shivering- but okay, and with the hunted squirrel still clutched under him. 

The Joxter scooped him and the squirrel up and gave a half-hearted smile. 

“Probably a good idea to look before you leap kit,” he said, carrying them along to go retrieve their pack. 

Snufkin felt miserable, even though the hunt had gone well he was now shivering and soaked. He pressed his face into his dad’s coat, feeling quite silly for having taken such a fall. 

When they returned to collect their things, the Joxter tried to find a nice spot to set up camp while they got Snufkin and their dinner sorted. 

It took nearly an hour in such thick woods, but the Joxter eventually found a nice sunny clearing. Setting their pack down he got Snufkin undressed from his soaked smock and boots and wrapped him up in their extra blanket. 

He sat the bundled kit in his lap and gently groomed his wet, messy hair. 

Snufkin leaned into the blanket, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be soothed by the rhythmic strokes of the grooming. 

He suddenly let out a soft whine as a dull ache attacked his head and he started feeling much too hot. 

The Joxter stopped his grooming and frowned, leaning down to press his forehead against his little son’s, feeling it burning. 

He pulled away and frowned at his suffering kit. “You’ve got a fever, kiddo,” he commented before continuing grooming the leftover water from Snufkin’s hair. The Joxter purred gently to comfort his kit. 

When his hair was dry and back to its half-messy self, the Joxter stood up and set his bundle gently down, pulling out their sleeping roll from the pack and making Snufkin a comfortable bed before getting to work setting up their camp properly. 

When the tent was set up he moved Snufkin and his bedroll inside and got to work cooking up their squirrel, keeping the tent open so he could watch his sick little kit.

Snufkin wanted to go to sleep and escape the pain he was in but found himself trapped in a wakeful daze. His father hummed softly just outside and he tried to cling to the sound, hoping it might lull him to sleep, but to no success. 

When the Joxter had finished cooking, he slipped into the tent and lay down beside Snufkin. The little Mumrik’s eyes blinked open weakly and he tried to sit up, but his dad gently pushed him back down. 

“No need to get up, kit, I’ve got you.” The Joxter said, collecting some squirrel together to feed to his son.

Snufkin ate it, glad to still be able to enjoy the squirrel after it had gotten him here. He looked up at his dad, who then held out a drink to him while gently stroking his matted hair. 

When the squirrel had been eaten between the two of them and the Joxter had ensured Snufkin drank enough, the older Mumrik curled protectively around his son. 

“Try your best to rest now, kit, with any luck it’ll all be over when you’re up again.” the Joxter whispered, nuzzling Snufkin’s cheek. 

Snufkin shifted to rest his head against his dad’s chest, grabbing his little paws into the fabric of his coat and finally managing to drift into a dull sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think and consider reading my other works! Thank you!


	3. A Decision

Things didn’t get better when Snufkin woke up. If anything, they got worse. His body ached all over and his fever persisted, the salvation of sleep continuing to elude him. 

The Joxter kept moving, because that’s what Mumriks do. He carried his sick little kit along as he tried to get them out of the forest. 

Hopelessly awake, Snufkin stared up at his dad with a frown. “Dad?...” He asked, his voice weak and his throat scratchy. 

“Yeah, kit?” the Joxter looked down at his poor little boy’s face. 

“‘m sorry I fell in the stream…” 

The Joxter’s bright blue eyes widened in surprise before his expression fell into gentle reassurance. 

“Shhh, it’s alright. It was an accident, and you caught us that wonderful squirrel. I’m very proud of you, Snufkin.” 

He held his son close to his chest. 

“I’m just sorry you’re in so much pain, kiddo, that’s definitely no fun.” 

Snufkin mewled in agreement, leaning against his dad’s coat. 

When the sun started dipping in the sky, the Joxter set up camp once more. Snufkin was still no better, so he put up their tent and lay him inside. 

“I’ll be back in a bit, kiddo, hopefully, you’ll be able to fall asleep.” He gently stroked the top of Snufkin’s head and pressed a kiss to it. 

He made sure Snufkin had drank plenty of water before he closed up the tent and went off into the forest. 

He foraged for berries and vegetables, knowing that a sick little Mumrik needed the extra vitamins. A stew would be a suitable supper for the evening. 

When he had collected a decent amount of strawberries, blueberries, onions, and carrots he returned back to the camp. 

He popped his head into the tent and found his dear Snufkin still woefully awake, staring at the roof. 

The Joxter went into the tent briefly to nuzzle Snufkin’s head, offering soft words of comfort to his poorly little boy. 

“I’m going to go catch some fish and then we’ll have a great meal, okay, kiddo?” The Joxter gave a smile. 

“Okay, dad…” Snufkin mumbled in response. 

The Joxter slipped out again and set up by the river he’d made his camp along. While he had a fishing rod for fishing in larger bodies of water, the Joxter loved river fishing just with his paws. Mindful of keeping his shadow off the water, he crouched and scanned the river. 

He fondly remembered when he was first teaching Snufkin these things. He’d been clumsy at first and struggled to take down a fish once he had caught it, as most fish had been bigger than him, but as he grew up the Joxter was happy to see his precious boy becoming quite skillful at hunting. 

He couldn’t wait for Snufkin to get a bit older so he could teach him about Park Keepers and mischief. He’s sure his dear little kit would love it even now, but his legs were still much too short, even though he was taller than most kits his age. 

The Joxter mused briefly on whether Snufkin would’ve faired better with a few Mumrik siblings rather than his dear Mymble’s rambunctious horde. 

Unlike Mymbles they would have an appreciation for naps and conserving their energy. He supposed they would also have claws and sharper teeth, which might be an issue if they had wanted to play roughly. 

Snufkin had a natural inclination for adventure as most Mumriks do, but he was very quiet and kept largely to himself. 

Perhaps, at the end of the day, it was best for it to be just the two of them. 

Once he had refocused himself on the task, the Joxter easily caught the fish they would need for a stew. 

He enjoyed eating things raw as nature intended, and sometimes Snufkin would too, but he knew the little Mumrik preferred things that were cooked and nicely prepared. He wasn’t sure if it was his age or just another difference between them.

When everything was cooked and together, the Joxter brought the little feast into the tent and found Snufkin still caught between exhaustion and wakefulness. 

“Any new developments, kit?” The Joxter asked, setting down a bowl of stew and another of berries, scooping up some of the fruit into his paw. 

Snufkin's only response was a pitiful mewl. 

The Joxter frowned and pressed his forehead to Snufkin’s again. He sighed, feeling it still as hot as ever. 

He gently fed Snufkin some of the berries while stroking his hair. 

“Hopefully these will help, get your immune system running better.” He gave a soft trill. 

When the stew had cooled enough, Joxter started feeding it to Snufkin. He was glad at least that his poor kit still had the strength to do that much, even if he could do little else. 

After a bit Snufkin closed his mouth stubbornly, not wanting anymore. 

The Joxter gave a small laugh and smiled before taking the rest of the stew and eating it himself. 

When he’d finished, he looked up to see Snufkin’s eyes finally shut. 

His expression fell into a frown as he curled back around his sweet son. If he didn’t get any better tomorrow, the Joxter considered he might have to find a nearby town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a comment and tell me what you think! If you like this story please consider reading my other works! Thank you!


	4. A Compromise of Principles

The next day rolled in and still, Snufkin was no better. The Joxter felt his tail flicking anxiously as he quickly worked to take down their camp and get back to moving. 

They had to leave the forest as soon as they could and find a town, it’d be easier to care for Snufkin. He’d find them some actual lodgings, protected from the evening air and maybe even a doctor. 

The Joxter gave a frustrated sigh. He hated the idea but he hated seeing his son suffer another minute more. 

When everything was packed and ready to go he scooped Snufkin into his arms once more and continued on their way. 

The Mumrik boy pressed his face into his dad’s coat and gave a soft whine.

“There there, kit, I’m going to find you a doctor, okay?”

Snufkin shifted his face up to look at his dad. “A doctor?” 

The Joxter gave a small nod. “Fevers shouldn’t last this long, kiddo, as much as I don’t like it I don’t think this is something we can manage on our own.” 

Snufkin frowned. “I’ll get better though?...” 

The Joxter gently stroked his hair. “That’s the hope.” 

Snufkin gave a small sigh and settled back against him. 

“Try your best to sleep, I’ll get us out of here as quick as I can.” He promised.

“Kay…” Snufkin mumbled against him, pouting as his head continued to ache. 

The day went on and when the Joxter saw the end of the treeline, he broke into a run but was careful not to jostle Snufkin. 

Once they were finally out, the Joxter looked for any indication of a town. He couldn’t very well read signs but he knew enough to interpret what their purposes were. 

Township signs usually had three words on them and were often rather ornate. He’d never had or wanted a home, so the necessity to show off in such ways was rather lost on him. 

He walked down the path away from the forest, pausing briefly when he spotted a creek to get them both a drink. 

Eventually, the Joxter found such a township looking sign and indeed found a town not too far beyond it. 

He didn’t go right away, he dipped off into a field to sit and get them both in order. He groomed Snufkin first, his poor little scrap leaned almost weightlessly against his arm as he did. 

When he was done, he set Snufkin down in the grass and worked to give himself a thorough grooming. He fixed his hair into something less scruffy and chaotic and flattened down the wild fur on his tail. 

Snufkin blinked over at his dad and frowned. “You look strange like that…” He mumbled.

The Joxter gave a small laugh. “Most folks don’t like Mumriks, kit, especially not a messy looking one.” 

“That’s silly, why not?” Snufkin asked. 

The Joxter was glad that the sickness hadn’t taken away his dear boy’s uppity spirit. He scooped him up and held him close. 

“Plenty of reasons I suppose.” He shrugged. “We live for ourselves and don’t tend to make ties with others, most creatures find that rude.” 

He gently ran his paws through Snufkin’s tidied hair. “And living in the forest doesn’t always leave us the neatest, that’s another thing that tends to get on their nerves, especially Fillyjonks.” 

Snufkin pouted. “Well, why should we have to?” 

The Joxter grinned and purred. “Quite right, but that’s what happens when the world is mostly made up of uptight people I’m afraid, so tidied hair and smoothed down tail it is.” 

Snufkin leaned back against his father’s chest and attempted again to sleep. 

The Joxter sat up from the field, careful to wipe any loose grass from the end of his coat before heading into the town. 

It wasn’t that the Joxter disliked towns, he was very happy with the quick company they could provide and things he could do there, it was the silly rules that came as a caveat that he disliked. 

He liked to frequent bars and other places of merriment, they tended to appreciate his energetic and wild ways. Things like doctors and other such necessities of polite society he sometimes had to depend on, however, expected too much of him. 

For Snufkin though, the Joxter would do anything, especially when he was in such a state as this.

Debating his options, the Joxter dipped into a local shop to ask for directions. 

He wasn’t sure if it was lucky or unlucky that the store owner saw him the moment he came in, at very least it would make the tall countertop less of an issue.

The Joxter walked up to it but not so close that he couldn’t look at the owner properly.

“Excuse me there, would you happen to know where I could find a doctor?” 

The storekeeper looked over the Joxter before noticing Snufkin in his arms. 

“Just down the road, shouldn’t be hard to spot.” 

The Joxter tipped his hat. “Thanks.” 

The storekeeper watched him carefully as he left and the Joxter ignored them, focused on more important things. 

As he followed the directions he was given, the Joxter gently nuzzled Snufkin’s cheek. 

“We’ll get you into a nice bed soon, kiddo, and once you’re better we can get right back to the forest.” 

Snufkin looked up at him sadly. “Promise?” 

The Joxter smiled and kissed his head. “Of course.” 

Looking back up, he made his way down the street to the doctor’s clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing about Mumriks can you tell? 
> 
> If you like this chapter please let me know what you think in the comments and consider reading my other works! Thank you!
> 
> It's a pity but I start school again tomorrow which _might_ affect my post everyday schedule. If I can swing it I'll keep posting like this as long as it's feasible but if you start seeing less content from me that's why! Thanks for listening!


	5. A Looming Worry

The Joxter knocked on the door of the clinic. He noticed a mat beneath his feet and gave a small, frustrated groan as he wiped his shoes on it while he waited. 

The door was answered soon after by a Fillyjonk woman and the Joxter had to force himself not to bristle. Instead, he took his hat and tipped it politely. 

“Good day, ma’am, I was told to come here about my son, he has a rather unfortunate fever,” he explained, holding Snufkin in his arm a little higher for her to see as she looked down at him. 

She gave him a hard look through narrowed eyes before stepping aside to let him in. 

The Joxter made his way into the clinic and glanced around. 

“Keep your paws to yourself and don’t think about stealing anything, I know where everything should be kept around here!” She warned sharply. 

“I assure you, I just want my kit well,” The Joxter replied flatly, unable to keep a respectable tone.

The Fillyjonk gestured to a clinic bed, which the Joxter carefully tucked Snufkin into, stroking his hair and giving him a kiss on the forehead. 

“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before dragging a child through the woods.” The Fillyjonk woman said, taking out a thermometer. 

The Joxter took a chair nearby and brought it close to Snufkin’s bed. “Mumriks are raised in the woods,” he said simply. 

“And nasty little beasts you are,” She countered, giving the Joxter a look of disgust. “But this one isn’t just a Mumrik. Shouldn’t he be waddling after his mother with his siblings?” 

The Joxter’s tail flicked in annoyance. “He’s not fond of crowds or being cooped up inside.” 

Now the Fillyjonk gave a haughty laugh. “And what’s that matter? Children need to be fed, sheltered, and taught good manners.” 

She looked at the thermometer after taking it from Snufkin, who had thankfully managed to drift to asleep before this debate.

“Not that I’m sure he’d be well mannered either way, Mymble and Mumrik must make for an unsavoury combination of attitudes.” She tutted. 

The Joxter almost wished he cared to steal anything, it would serve her right for saying such things, but then again it would likely only make her feel justified in her poor treatment of Mumriks. 

“Actually, Snufkin is a perfectly well mannered child, if you can help him get better I’m sure you’ll see that,” The Joxter said looking up at her. 

“I can certainly, but don’t think you’ll just go running off quite so soon.” She set the thermometer aside. “It’s a persistent, low-grade fever. He’ll be sick still for at least another week.” 

The Joxter’s heart was seized with worry. “A week??” He pushed up from his chair quickly. 

“Yes, and he’ll be staying here until it’s up,” She said, folding her arms. 

“_What_?” The Joxter was incredulous. 

The Fillyjonk woman narrowed her eyes. “You can’t take such a sick child anywhere else and why should you?” 

The Joxter’s tail flicked anxiously. “Mumriks like me don’t work like that…” 

“Well that’s your problem, isn’t it?” 

The Joxter stared at his shoes in worry, then up at Snufkin. His sweet little kit lay in a bed much too big for him and was going to be there for another _week_! 

“Can’t you heal it faster?...” the Joxter asked, turning to look at her.

“Don’t be daft! It’ll pass in a week but at least while he’s here and not out like an animal he’ll be comfortable and taken care of,” She snapped. 

The Joxter flinched and stared at his shoes again, sitting back in the chair. He almost wished he hadn’t brought Snufkin at all, but he knew that he’d only have gotten more frantic if the fever had persisted that long out in the forest…

The Fillyjonk woman left the room to go off somewhere else in the clinic, so Joxter moved in closer to Snufkin, leaning over his bed to watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, shaken occasionally by a cough that stabbed at the Joxter’s heart. 

Was that Fillyjonk right? Was bringing a half-Mymble out of the domestic spaces Mymbles were used to the wrong choice? 

He wanted to stroke his son’s hair or curl around him, but didn’t want to interrupt his well-earned sleeping. 

The Joxter wondered what his sweet, dear Mymble would think of him now. Would she think he was failing their son? Even at his best efforts could he really provide for Snufkin the way the little boy deserved? 

The thought gnawed at the Joxter’s heart and mind, but an extra thought plagued him too. What if he couldn’t stay here for a week? And just what would happen if he left?

He knew he couldn’t live with himself if bringing Snufkin back into the woods made him sicker, so if he really was unable to stay here, what options would that leave him? 

The Joxter didn’t know, and he dreaded the day that he might have to find out…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Save the Joxter :( 
> 
> If you like this chapter please let me know what you think and consider reading my other works! thank you!


	6. A Hectic Week

It had been six days that the Joxter and Snufkin had been stuck at the clinic and still Snufkin seemed only a little better. 

He had managed to sleep more, that was the important thing. The Fillyjonk woman kept him fed on a healthy diet and they had easy access to water, but the sameness of it all was driving the Joxter absolutely crazy! 

He occasionally left to go explore the town, leaving Snufkin in the care of the Fillyjonk. He’d even gone to the bar once or twice to try and help himself through this, but quit after the Fillyjonk woman had scolded him and left him outside for trying to come back a bit too drunk. 

So the Joxter stuck close by after that. He helped whenever the Fillyjonk would let him and spent a lot of time just watching Snufkin sleep. He was rather annoyed that she wouldn't let him curl around his son on the bed without removing his shoes first. 

No matter how much he reminded himself that he couldn’t bring Snufkin back to travelling before he was better, it didn’t help the restlessness clawing at him. 

Snufkin had taken notice, the little Mumrik was perceptive and knew his dad well enough. 

He sat up in his bed as the Joxter sat beside him in his chair. 

“Dad?...” 

“Yes, kit?” the Joxter replied, trying to keep his tone even. 

“Why’ve you been acting so funny?” He frowned. 

The Joxter held his gaze and gave a laugh. “Funny how, kiddo?”

“You’re upset,” Snufkin said, indicating to his tail, which the Joxter had been trying to keep from anxiously twitching. 

The Joxter gave a little sigh. “I just don’t like staying in one place kiddo, you know like how you felt back home?” he gave a melancholy smile. 

He knew Snufkin wouldn’t have felt that way any other time. The Joxter always kept them on the move and the times when he couldn’t, Snufkin had always dealt with it like normal, albeit fussing about his desire to keep going. The Joxter couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory.

He supposed, like most things, it was the Mymble in him. He had a heightened level of tolerance for the sameness than Joxter did as a full Mumrik. 

Snufkin gave a small nod of understanding and glanced around conspiratorially for the Fillyjonk. “We should just run away then! And go back to the woods!” 

The Joxter gave his son a smile and ruffled his hair, proud of his sneaky little kit. “Don’t I wish, kiddo, but you’re still sick, you can’t go to the woods.”

Snufkin gave a sigh and a pout and flopped back into the bed. 

“Stupid squirrel…” He muttered. 

The Joxter pressed a kiss to his head. “At least you’re not so antsy about being here, boy-o I imagine that’d make the fever even less fun.” he pointed out. 

Snufkin gave a little huff. “I guess…” 

“Hey, chin up, when we get out of here finally I’ll make sure we do something extra fun.” He promised. 

“Like what?” Snufkin looked up at him. 

The Joxter tapped a claw to his chin. 

“We should catch a chicken,” he whispered to Snufkin, leaning in to the little Mumrik’s ear so the Fillyjonk couldn’t walk in and overhear. 

Snufkin grinned in excitement. “Ooh!! I haven’t had any since we left Mamma's!” 

The Joxter smiled. “I know, they’re hard to get your hands on living like we do, but I’m sure between the two of us it should be a breeze.” 

Snufkin smiled and gave a yawn. “I’d like that dad…” 

“Get some rest kiddo, I love you.” The Joxter gently nuzzled his cheek. 

"I love you too, dad," Snufkin gave a tired nod and quickly fell back asleep. 

The Joxter watched him a while longer before getting up to head to the bathroom, hoping a cool splash of water on his face might help him calm down. 

On his way, he ran into the Fillyjonk woman who gave him her usual distrusting look. 

“You Mumriks are pathetic, flighty creatures,” She said snidely. “It hasn’t even been a full week yet and already you’ve been looking like a caged animal.”

“That’s what buildings are.” He bristled. 

“And I suppose that makes you indeed an animal.” 

The Joxter frowned. “Surely even you must realize Mumriks are more than just that.”

“Your lot certainly don’t act like it half the time.” 

“And why should we have to?” 

The Fillyjonk woman tsked. “Because exactly as I said, it’s what seperates us from animals.” 

The Joxter’s tail lashed. “Well it’s a good thing that I don’t quite care what you say.” he hissed. 

The Fillyjonk woman looked down on him. “Even if you don’t, you should care about what’s best for your son, and it’s definitely not to stolen away because you can’t control yourself.” 

The Joxter glared at her and turned off, abandoning the bathroom and returning to sit at Snufkin’s bedside, where he remained late into the night. 

The next morning, Snufkin blinked his eyes open and looked around. His head still hurt and his body still ached. 

Slowly he focused out of his daze and realized there was a ball of grass set on his blanket…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So this is the one moment that might be confusing if you haven't read To Eat Among Trolls. The grass ball signifies 'I've left, but I was thinking about you before I did' and is part of a small series of codes Snufkin and the Joxter have developed to communicate certain ideas when they need to leave each other suddenly) 
> 
> That aside I hope you enjoyed! Please comment and let me know what you think!


	7. An Empty Bed

The Joxter returned to the town three days later feeling much better. He hadn’t let himself go too far. Even with leaving Snufkin the message, he didn’t want to be gone from his side any longer than he absolutely _had_ to so he could feel better and be able to last out the remainder of their stay in the town. 

He made his way back to the clinic, making sure to wipe off his dirtied shoes on the mat so the Fillyjonk wouldn’t complain and then let himself inside. 

A silly idea crossed the Joxter’s mind and he crouched down as if hunting before slipping into the main room of the clinic. 

Low to the ground and moving silently, he made his way over to Snufkin’s bedside and snuck underneath it, coming out the other side carefully near where his son would rest. 

Finally, he burst up and threw his arms out towards the bed to scoop his son up into an embrace. 

“Caught you!” He laughed as he did. 

Except he hadn’t. 

The space where he had anticipated his son to be was empty, he had merely caught air. 

He scrambled to sit up and get off the bed, glancing around. 

This was a good sign surely, Snufkin must be feeling better and is up and about somewhere else in the clinic. 

As he moved to try and search elsewhere, the Fillyjonk woman came into the room, brandishing an umbrella.

“Just _who_ do you think you are coming in unin-” She cut her threat off abruptly as she realized just who it was who had come into the clinic unannounced and she lowered the umbrella. 

The Joxter stared at her a moment before remembering himself. “Where’s Snufkin? Is he better now?”

The Fillyjonk gave him a hard look. “You mean the child you _abandoned_?” She hissed. 

“What! Don’t be ridiculous! I’d never abandon my son!” The Joxter hissed back. 

“You Mumriks shouldn’t be allowed to take care of anything, let alone a child, not a shred of good sense or responsibility in you!” She said, talking past him.

“He knew I was coming back! I’d left him a message saying so!” The Joxter insisted. 

The Fillyjonk rolled her eyes. “You mean that silly clump of grass he refused to let go of? You couldn’t have left a proper note?” She asked distainfully. 

The Joxter narrowed his eyes. “_No_. I couldn’t have.” 

The Fillyjonk wrinkled her snout. “Right yes, you Mumriks don’t care to educate yourselves either. But then why not say where you were going?” 

The Joxter shook his head. “Quit badgering me! I should be the one interrogating you!” He snapped, tail fluffed up and lashing. “Where is my son??” He demanded. 

“Abandoned children go to orphanages, or do you not even know that much?” She asked. turning her nose up at him. 

The Joxter’s eyes widened in horror and disbelief. His heart felt like it was being torn right through. “Y-you... you can’t be serious…” He stammered. 

“You were gone for an entire day and longer still! That’s well and abandoned!” 

“N-No... No! you can’t do that, where is the orphanage??” He stared up at her, his eyes wild and desperate it in terror. 

“I could and I did, unlike you, I follow the rules, and so I sent him where he needed to be. We don’t have an orphanage here so I sent for him to be brought to the nearest one.” The Fillyjonk explained. 

The Joxter gripped his hair, wild and ragged once more, tightly in stress as he processed the woman’s words. 

“Stars above this can’t be happening…” He said between uneasy breaths. 

“If you didn’t want it to happen you shouldn’t have left in the first place!” 

“I was going to lose it if I stayed here any longer! I had to go!” 

“Exactly why Mumriks can’t be trusted with children! What if the fever had worsened while you were gone? Even if you meant to come back, it could’ve been too late because you just _had_ to go!” She admonished. 

Tears brimmed in the Joxter’s eyes as he failed to block out the thought, failed to stop himself from imagining Snufkin suffering alone and coming back too late…

“You see? Even you can understand that. He’s better off somewhere stable and orderly, that’s what children need!” 

The Joxter forced himself not to breakdown crying. He couldn’t, not here and not now. 

He turned to look at the Fillyjonk woman again, needing desperately to get a straight answer. No matter how much he hated her for everything she had said about Mumriks and done to him personally, he needed her to tell him.

At this moment there was nothing more important than finding out where Snufkin was and getting him _back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a chapter count but anyone who's been following me long enough knows this is tentative, it could be longer or shorter but I feel like this might be roughly correct! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	8. An Interesting Acquaintance

Snufkin tried to force his eyes to remain shut, he didn’t want to get up. 

He didn’t feel sick anymore and his Mymbline nature told him to rise with the sun despite his best attempts to ignore it. 

He pulled the cover over his head, trying desperately to block the light out, but to no avail. 

Snufkin felt the cover pulled away from him by a sharp tug. 

“Get up, will you? You’re not sick anymore!” 

Snufkin glared at the Mymble girl who had snatched away his blanket, standing near the foot of his bed. 

“Why should I!” He hissed. “I shouldn’t even be here!” 

The Mymble girl, June, rolled her eyes at him. “Yes yes, we’ve heard you and about your father, it’s getting quite silly!” 

Snufkin folded his arms. “There’s nothing silly about it, he said he’d be back!”

“With the grass ball, yes, you haven’t let go of the stupid thing since you got here!” She huffed. 

“It’s really none of your business,” Snufkin said, holding the grass ball protectively to his chest.

“It is when you want to be such a pain about it!” June argued. “Stop deluding yourself, you’re here, so tough! Lots of us are here.”

“I’m not deluding anything! My dad wouldn’t have left me this if he wasn’t planning to come back for me, no matter what you, that Fillyjonk doctor, or anyone else says!” 

June tossed his blankets back at him. “How do you know a bird couldn’t have dropped its nesting in or something?”

Snufkin scrambled to get the blankets off him and glare back at the honey-haired Mymble. “The windows were all shut! And birds aren’t that clever or unpredictable!” 

June stuck her tongue out at him. “You cats know all about birds I’m sure.” 

“I’m not a cat, I’m a Mumrik! And also a Mymble like you!” Snufkin protested. “And besides, I think it’s quite common sense to know that of birds!” 

“I think you give birds too little credit,” June said before turning and flouncing away. 

Snufkin stared after her, confused by just what she meant. 

He sighed in frustration, now thoroughly awake. He hopped off the bed and made it as best he could. 

It was annoying for a number of reasons, the bed was much too big for one, he could barely be expected to maneuver the covers back along it. He also hadn’t _had_ a proper bed in a very long time. 

When he had, it was small, just like him, easy enough to make. Other times he’d sleep in a bed with one or more of his siblings and they’d work together to make it. He also remembered the occasions he would sleep in his Mother Mymble’s bed, usually only after a nightmare. 

He wished he was there now, for surely being stuck in this place could be described as nothing else. 

He was frustrated that he had no way to tell the adults in this place where his Mother Mymble lived so they could send him home to her. At least if he was back with his Mother Mymble, his father would visit eventually and find him safe again to bring him back to the forest… 

And if he got that back, then he’d be sure to avoid silly mistakes, to be more aware when hunting and try not to get sick. 

It was hard being a Mumrik and a Mymble, desires in his nature conflicting with each other or diluting impulses to make him truly like neither. He wanted the life of a Mumrik but was woefully held back by his Mymbleness, at least that’s how he felt. 

He went and had breakfast with the other children and then was let outside to play in a fenced-off garden. 

The area offended Snufkin’s very sensibilities, with grass too neat and flowers only in very deliberate places. 

He walked over to a tree, growing over the fence. If he could climb it, it would be an easy escape. 

He felt eyes on him, however, and noticed one of the adults across the yard watching him carefully. 

“They don’t trust you, not that you should blame them.” 

Snufkin turned to see June, also standing nearby. She wasn’t facing him, her eyes were trained on a bluebird in the tree. 

Snufkin approached her. “What’re you doing?” 

“Want to see something cool?” she gave him a smirk. 

Snufkin blinked in surprise and gave a nod. 

June looked up at the bird again and held up her hand with a finger extended.

The bird fluttered down and perched on it, tweeting happily.

Snufkin’s tail flicked, he was amazed, but couldn’t help feeling strange. He was so close to a prey animal but knew it would be quite rude to take advantage of the proximity. 

“How?” Snufkin asked, looking from the bird to June. 

June lifted her finger, signalling the bird to flutter back to the tree. “I respect them.” 

Snufkin looked up at the bird again and then back to June. “Would it come to me if I respected it?”

“It takes more than that, and I’m sure you’ve eaten enough of them. That’s not very respectful.” She pointed out. 

Snufkin frowned. “That’s what Mumriks do.” 

June shrugged. “Then you can’t respect them enough.” 

Snufkin gave a sigh. “I guess…” he stared back up at the bird and then looked to June. 

“Do you like being here?” 

June frowned. “No, of course not.”

Snufkin looked into the tree and whispered. “I’m going to escape, would you want to come with me?” 

“And go where?” June replied, a glum look on her face. “Unlike you, I don’t have a father to find.” 

Snufkin gave a sigh. “I suppose...though there’s no real guarantee I’ll find him either…” 

"Well, you'll never get back to him if you stay here, even if he did come back for you, they don't send kids back to places they think are unfit." 

Snufkin frowned at that. "They really shouldn't get to decide something like that for me..." He huffed. "And I'm sure if I stick around they'll only find me again... Maybe if I go back to the town... but even then he might've already left..." 

June looked at Snufkin. “You’ve got that grass ball right? If it means he’s really looking for you like you say, you’ll find him.” 

Snufkin gave a small smile. “I hope so, and I hope you get out of here somehow.” 

“I’ll figure something, can’t exactly live out in the forest like you though.” 

Snufkin hummed and went inside as time in the yard had ended. 

That night, after everyone had been tucked in, Snufkin snuck his way back into the yard. Crouched low and using his stalking techniques to avoid detection until he was at the door, unlocking it as he’d seen his father do many times. 

Unsheathing his claws, he climbed the tree, and hidden by the cover of night, dropped down on the other side of the fence and ran off, leaving the orphanage behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, let me know what you think! Thank you!


	9. A Change of Heart

Snufkin woke up the next morning, having tucked himself into a spot under a bush. The comfortable collection of leaves in the little alcove of the hazle bush had been incredibly inviting to the Mumrik kit after a night of wandering, looking for anything familiar to point him back to the Fillyjonk Doctor’s clinic. 

As usual he woke with the sun and uncurled himself from the little nest he had made and gave a small sigh, wishing his dad were here. 

The older Mumrik would still be asleep, as that was one of the Joxter’s favourite things to do. 

Snufkin remembered many mornings poking the Joxter with his little claws or pulling his hair, insisting his sleepy dad get up so they could keep moving. 

The Joxter would always laugh, grabbing Snufkin with his paws, or as a younger, lighter kit with his tail, and scoop him back into an embrace. 

Snufkin tried to remember what he’d say to him when insisting he enjoy a nap, but the exact words escaped him as hard as he wracked his brain. 

A sniffle and a whimper passed Snufkin’s lips and before he knew it his little body was trembling in a cry. 

He plopped back down on the nest as the feeling overtook him and he was left to face it. 

There was no tongue to stroke his hair, the silly sensation soothing nonetheless. There wasn’t a warm body to curl into, shielding from whatever was troubling him and there certainly was no soft voice assuring him that things would be alright. 

Instead, there was only bird song and other noises of the forest.

This reminded him of another problem, his stomach was quite empty, which is never fun for a Mumrik. 

When the sadness had worn itself to a dull ache, Snufkin forced himself to climb from under the hazel bush. 

He dropped into a proper crouch as his dad had taught him and sniffed the air. He focused and caught the scent of a bird nearby and started off carefully to hunting it. He kept his eyes more aware, not wanting to fall down another ravine. 

Thankfully the forest floor was flat as far as his eyes could see, although a bit densely clustered with trees. 

When the bird was finally in sight, however, as he was almost close enough to leap for it, he remembered what June had said. 

Something about it made him truly want the birds to like him, and against his better judgement, he stopped, sitting up from his crouch and sheathing his claws to merely stare at the creature. 

The little bird hopped away, still not having taken particular notice of him, instead pecking at the ground for its own meal or perhaps materials for its nest. 

His tail flicked pensively as he watched it search. Would he never eat a bird again then? Were they no longer prey but friends? 

Staring down at his paws he kept thinking. Just what would he eat instead? Squirrels, rabbits, mice, and other forest creeps? But then were they more complex if the bird was too? Did he want them as friends just the same? 

As he looked back to the bird he saw it pick up a shiny bit of rock. Surely there was no practical purpose for a bird to want a rock, but it had it all the same. 

He pulled the grass ball from where he’d tucked it in the pocket of his smock before pulling himself up off the ground, startling the bird, leaving it to flutter off. 

Was it foolish for a Mumrik to want to be friends with their supper? He wondered what his dad would think of it before leaving the subject, not wanting to upset himself again. 

Instead, he walked along and looked for berries and wild vegetables, unearthing and picking the ones he knew for certain were safe for him to eat. 

He had no means of cooking, his dad had taught him how to set up a fire, but without a pot, water, or bowl there was little point, so instead, he ate what he found raw. 

The berries were fine like this but it made the vegetables a bit harder than usual to enjoy. 

It was fine though, this was what he would have to do if he wanted to someday uncover what June had meant. 

Snufkin continued to walk through the forest to try and find his way, comforted more now by the birdsong. 

When he did find out what June knew, he was certain it would be rewarding to call a bird or creature to his side and know that they were friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like A Discussion of Nature, I'm not too sure where June and the birds came from but I hope you enjoy reading about it! If you do, please leave a comment and let me know what you think and consider reading my other works, thank you!


	10. A Helpful Redirection

The orphanage was just a day's travel for most, but for the Joxter it took considerably longer. 

He was walking on foot, and short legs at that, but he kept as quick a pace as he could, determined to retrieve his son. 

He even forced himself up and out of bed as soon as the light of the sun was up, as tempting as it was to just remain sleeping. 

He couldn’t, he had to get to Snufkin as soon as possible! Who knew what kind of place this orphanage was or what they might be subjecting him to. 

Even at their best, orphanages were much too orderly of places for Mumriks! All rules and schedules, keeping children together and in confined places so they wouldn’t wander off and were easy to keep in line, certainly no place for his Snufkin! 

He had not one home, but two, with him and the Mymble. Perhaps he’d have to find or invest in a map to teach Snufkin just where the Mymble lived in case they were separated again…

The Joxter found the orphanage town and made it up to the building with a large fenced in yard. 

He didn’t go up to it though, he was certain these orderly types wouldn’t just give him Snufkin back, especially with how the Fillyjonk doctor must have disparaged him with claims of irresponsibility and abandonment. 

He’d have to be sneakier about things. He was careful to walk around the building inconspicuously, looking for the best way in. 

When rounding the back he saw again the fenced in yard with a tree stretching over it. He sized it up and determined he could definitely climb the fence and hide himself in the tree, his green coat and black hair would blend in easily. The Joxter left his large red hat on the other side of the fence, as that would likely stand out. 

With nobody out on the yard, he carefully made his way up the fence and tucked himself into the tree, curling close on a branch to wait for the children to come out and to catch sight of his kit.

When they finally did, he scanned his bright blue eyes about for Snufkin, but saw nothing of his blue smock or brown hair. 

He didn’t even see a child who looked like they might be Snufkin but changed because of the orphanage's restrictions. Some of the children had paws or tails, but none were the rich, muddy brown of his little Snufkin’s fur. 

Suddenly, he heard a sharp but quiet voice from down below. 

“Hey you!” 

The Joxter froze, having been caught, but as he looked down he saw it was a little Mymble girl. He hoped she wasn’t planning to tell the adults he was there, her hushed tone made him think she wouldn’t.

He peered down with his sharp blue eyes and whispered back. 

“Hey there kiddo, nice to meet you,” he gave a sheepish smile. 

“You’re Snufkin’s dad, right?” She regarded him idly. 

The Joxter’s eyes widened, hearing his son’s name. 

“Yes! Do you know where he is?” he asked urgently. 

“He left a fews days ago to go find you! He was going back to the town you guys were in,” she explained, whispering up into the tree. 

The Joxter gave a nod but then paused. “Aren’t we going to get caught with you staring up here like that?” 

“I always stare in this tree, I look at and talk to birds, though you’ve scared them all off it seems, unless you ate one.” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at him. 

The Joxter frowned. “I did no such thing, though you’re lucky, I might’ve,” He admits with a small grin. 

June huffed. “What a silly bunch of cats.” 

The Joxter gave a small laugh, he’d always enjoyed how spirited Mymbles were, and this little one reminded him of some of his Mymble’s own fifteen back home. 

“Well thank you, little Mymble, good luck with your birds.” 

June gave a small roll of her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, good luck finding Snufkin. Make sure he does something useful with that grass ball when he’s done clinging to it!” 

The Joxter gave a laugh and a grin. “Can do.” 

With that, the Joxter slipped from the tree and back over the fence, laughing again as he heard the orphanage workers notice him and shout something, but he was gone again before they could attempt to question him. 

After running as far as he could, he tried to figure out where his little kit might’ve gone after escaping and found an easy enough answer in the nearby woods. 

Closing his eyes and taking in the scents, the Joxter tried to pick out Snufkin’s trail, but couldn’t find it, not the one he knew. He instead smelt a stale, unhelpful hint of old blankets and dandelions that had clung to the orphanage. 

It stuck Joxter with a particular note of sadness that Snufkin’s scent was no longer his own, earthy and unique, he felt entirely to blame for it. 

Setting off into the woods, he hoped Snufkin was okay, that he’d find him soon, smelling once more of flowers and dirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I can keep up my regular posting schedule Tuesdays and Thursdays are going to be the days that I'm most likely to post late as they're the busiest! Luckily didn't have that issue today though. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did please comment and let me know what you think!


	11. A Stormy Night

Snufkin had left the woods and travelled along a river, staying close to a water source and fish would be important for him to keep going. 

He was really glad his dad had taught him how fishing work without the pole too, but eating fish cold and raw was never particularly pleasant, he knew he’d have to try and find something to cook with. 

He skipped along the river, hoping he could find the town of the Fillyjonk doctor again, but when he got there he wondered what he would do. Even if his dad did return to the town, what if he didn’t come back for a long time? 

And if he didn’t come back for a while, Snufkin was sure he’d feel the same restless panic that made his dad leave him in the first place. 

Snufkin gave a sad hum, his tail flicking uncertainly.

He guessed he knew why his dad had to leave him alone, but he couldn’t help feeling upset with him for it. 

He knew his dad hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, he’d left the grass ball to say he’d be back, and things would’ve been fine if Snufkin could’ve stayed where his dad would’ve found him, but it just didn’t work out like that...

Now he was alone, smart and skilled enough to keep himself going, but going where? 

Something in his being told him he could go anywhere his Mymble feet would take him, but his soft heart only ached for one place... 

As Snufkin kept wandering, he smelt rain upon the wind and looking into the sky he could see a storm approaching. 

By the river, surrounded only by flat grass and hills there was nowhere he could take shelter, so Snufkin had no choice but to keep going, and hope the landscape changed further down. 

He eventually came to a town and wandered along the streets, trying to avoid an accidental trampling. 

Snufkin didn’t remember much what the town of the Fillyjonk doctor looked like, he had been trying to sleep when he first arrived and distressed about his father when leaving… 

Strangers eyed him as he wandered along and Snufkin found himself shrinking under their gaze, not fond of the attention. 

As his feet started growing tired and each building seemed to melt into each other, Snufkin knew he had to work up the nerve to ask somebody for help. 

He tried his best to approach people, but as soon as they spotted him they would hurry their walking or head into a shop. Snufkin couldn’t understand it. 

The few people who would stop only told him unhelpfully tell him that he had the wrong town and a town with a Fillyjonk doctor was too vague to find it. Snufkin found that nobody asked what he was doing alone. 

Snufkin had run out of energy and plopped down on the sidewalk he’d been walking along. People walking past tried their best to avoid him as he sat rudely in the middle of their path. 

He let out a cry as somebody paying less attention than most trod on his tail. 

The offender shot him a cruel look. “Get out of the way if you don’t want to be stepped on!” and hurried away. 

Snufkin forced himself back onto his feet and cradled his tail, trying to find a less offensive place to rest as he stumbled along. 

As he did so, the rain finally broke and the people of the town made their way into stores and houses or put up their umbrellas. 

Snufkin had nothing, and the town lacked bushes or other suitable places to hide. He quickly ducked under a bench along the street, the slats still allowing most of the rain pass through. 

His smock was quite wet and the wind whipped up, blowing water under the bench too, rendering the spot useless and leaving him all the more drenched. 

Snufkin shivered and looked around for somewhere to go but only saw closed doors. 

He remembered what his dad had said, people don’t like Mumriks, and especially not messy ones, and with his smock soaked through, hair drenched down his face, and mud gathering on his boots he was sure they’d be even less hospitable than before the storm. 

He was growing quite weary and dropped to a crouch to run along faster, avoiding puddles so he wouldn’t get even wetter and dirtier. 

Those still out with their umbrellas tried to avoid him as he scampered about, muttering as he slipped past their feet. 

The rain grew heavier and even those with umbrellas started making their way in as well, while Snufkin was left alone. 

The wind buffeted him and nearly knocked him off his paws. He stumbled and got himself back up. 

Through the torrent, he managed to spy a pipe, just big enough that he could crawl inside. Seeing no alternative, he squeezed and crouched in it, at least protected now from the worst of the rain. 

Laying his tired head on his paws, Snufkin curled up in the pipe and gave in to the tiredness that had been threatening to claim him all day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, it's that memory mentioned in To Eat Among Trolls- 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	12. A Long Time Gone

The Joxter wandered along, forlorn. The leaves on the ground were starting to tinge with frost as Fall was now on the cusp of Winter. 

He had tried to follow Snufkin’s scent trail but to no success. He backtracked the two-day journey to the town as the Mymble girl had suggested, but there was still no luck. 

It had been two months since he had seen Snufkin and his heart ached with guilt and regret. He knew he had to hold onto the hope that his kit was still out there. 

He had taught him to be smart and skillful, Snufkin could hunt and find shelter, but as Winter approached the idea of the little Mumrik being alone in the world was a concerning one, for he was still a Mymble too. 

The Joxter kept checking the air, hoping to catch Snufkin’s scent somewhere along the wind. He knew it was a desperate hope, Snufkin's time in the orphanage proved that he might not even smell the same anymore… 

Whenever he ate, he looked to the stars and hoped Snufkin too had a pleasantly full belly. He had started sleeping in trees again and eating things without cooking them, there was little point to make those changes if Snufkin wasn’t with him.

He kept their tent and cooking supplies, however, because if he did find Snufkin, he would need them again so he could provide for his son the way he deserved. 

The Joxter avoided returning to the Mymble. He couldn’t bear to face her until Snufkin was back safely with him. He was of no use travelling to her because Snufkin would not be heading that way unless by a very unlikely chance. He was better off wandering the area, searching the forest and asking towns he crossed if they had seen the little Mumrik kit. 

Looking down at the scattered leaves once more as he walked along, the Joxter sighed. Snufkin would be turning seven soon, and if he wasn’t found quickly his son would spend his birthday alone for the first time... 

Snufkin walked through the forest alone, as he had been for too long to count. Mumriks didn’t care for calendars and rarely used watches, but the beginning in the change of the season from Fall to Winter told him it had been much too long. 

After the night of the storm, Snufkin realized he’d need to find a better way to take care of himself, without trying to rely on strangers who would only think him dirty and rude. 

He could hunt for fish and shelter in bushes or small trees, but as the nights grew colder he had to find something more stable. He had taken to breaking into houses when he could find them. He wasn’t fond of houses, but it was preferable to freezing. 

Snufkin knew he needed to find a way to make fire, to cook food, to have blankets and towels to dry himself and keep warm. 

He also knew that he had no money and that sympathies for a lonely Mumrik child were low. 

So instead, he took things when he could. He had seen his dad do many things, picking locks with his claws and pinching things among them. 

He had found a small shoulder bag to carry things in, tossed in the trash but still perfectly usable and had swiped blanket or two from a clothesline after sneaking into a yard. 

The most important thing he had managed to swipe was a pocket knife, left unattended by a family of campers. With it, he was finally able to create a suitable campfire, as well as messily attempt to prepare his fish. 

It would never be as comfortable as living with his dad, having their tent and being able to rely on the older Mumrik to handle things, but Snufkin was glad for what he could manage. 

He prepared a nest in a low tree, fixing his blankets into the bow as his campfire of fish cooked below. 

He wondered if he’d ever find the Fillyjonk doctor’s town again, or if he was just walking around in circles and in the wrong direction. 

As he climbed back down the tree to check on his fish, Snufkin wondered somberly if he’d spend the rest of his life all alone, never seeing his dad or his Mother Mymble again…

The thought shook him and he quietly started to cry. 

It was growing dark when the Joxter finally forced himself to find a tree for the night. He had his night eyes, but it just wouldn’t do to keep going too late into the night, otherwise, he might be caught sleeping the day away. 

As he put his things safely into a tree, he smelt the air once more. 

Somebody was cooking fish. 

And with it, there was the scent of a Mumrik that smelled of flowers and dirt.


	13. A Unique Little Mumrik

The Joxter’s blue eyes widened and his heart leapt in his chest. He reached up the tree to quickly pull the bag back down, slipping it on quickly and then breaking into a run. 

The smell of the fish was easier to follow, but that of his kit was the only thing that mattered.

As he raced across the forest he saw it, the light of a campfire, he was so glad that Snufkin had been able to make one and keep warm. 

He broke from the trees and there he saw him, his boy, his kit, his Snufkin! The little Mumrik didn’t have a moment to process what was happening before he was scooped up and spun around, tears still fresh on his cheeks. 

The Joxter pressed him close to his chest and squeezed him, nuzzling the top of his messy brown hair, certain he’d never let him go. 

“Oh Snufkin! My poor poor kit!!” The Joxter wailed, and soon he was crying as well. 

Snufkin had stopped crying, caught in the shock of the sudden reunion. As soon as he had taken in that his dad was here, holding him in his arms, Snufkin started to cry once more. 

It didn’t matter that the older Mumrik was holding him a bit too close, that’s just what Snufkin needed, and he pressed only closer. 

He mewled and cried, from both unresolved sorrow and relief, wetting the front of the Joxter’s coat, but neither made any attempts to stop it. 

When he had finally gotten ahold of himself, the Joxter sat down beside Snufkin’s campfire and started to groom his young son’s head, comforting the boy as he cried. 

“It’s okay...I’m here now and I’ll never leave you again,” He said quietly. 

Snufkin gave a sniffle and a choked sob as he tried to find his voice and look up at his dad. 

“I missed you…” 

The Joxter nuzzled the top of his head before staring into his big brown eyes. 

“I missed you too, so so much...and I feel awful that this happened at all kit, it shouldn’t have…” 

Snufkin gave a sad hum and his tail flicked behind him but he didn’t say anything more. 

The Joxter gently stroked his hair and Snufkin gave a soft purr as he pressed his cheek against his father’s coat. 

The older Mumrik looked about at Snufkin’s little setup and gave a fond smile. “You’ve done a really good job looking after yourself,” He said gently. 

Snufkin nodded. “I did what you taught me.” 

“I’m so proud of you, kit,” The Joxter nuzzled his head once more. 

“Dad?...” Snufkin said with a small voice. 

“Yes, kit?” The Joxter looked down at him, eyes round with concern. 

Snufkin gave a pause. “I don’t think I like hunting for birds or critters anymore…” he admitted. 

The Joxter looked down at him curiously but stroked his hair comfortingly. “What a unique little Mumrik you’ll be,” he hummed. 

“Maybe a unique Mumrik is better than one no one likes…” Snufkin sighed. 

The Joxter frowned at that. What had his precious child been through in this time? What had he not been there to protect him from?... 

He cuddled Snufkin closer. “I like you, and so does your Mamma and your siblings, and that little Mymble you met liked you too, and if we’re the only ones who do, who cares what the rest of the world thinks?” He said as he smiled down at his son. 

Snufkin gave a nod before shifting in his father’s arms to pull out the grass ball, wilted and in shambles. 

The Joxter gave a small laugh. “Your friend wanted you to do something useful with it, but it might be a bit too late for that now,” He admits. 

Snufkin sat up in his dad’s grasp and tossed the loose collection to the ground anyways. “It might be useful to something.” 

“You’re probably right, I’m just glad it served you all this time.”

Snufkin looked up into his father’s bright blue eyes. “I had to keep it until you came back…” 

The Joxter gave a nod. “And now I am.” 

The pair sat by the campfire and the Joxter took off Snufkin’s fish when they were done cooking. They shared their first meal together in ages and Snufkin felt maybe it was the nicest meal he’d ever had. 

“Dad?” Snufkin looked up at him when he was comfortably full. 

“Yes, kit?” 

“Can we go back to see Mother soon?” 

The Joxter nodded. “Of course, I think that would do us both some good.” He agreed. 

Snufkin gave a yawn and the Joxter chuckled. “Time for bed?” 

Snufkin nodded sleepily. 

“Should I set up the tent?” 

Snufkin shook his head. “I made a nest.” 

The Joxter looked and smiled at the blankets arranged in the bow of the small tree above them. 

“It’s a perfect nest.” 

After putting the fire out and moving their bag into the tree, the Joxter carried Snufkin up in one arm. 

He curled himself around his kit, nuzzling him close, overwhelmed by the relief that he was safely with him once more. 

As Snufkin started to fall asleep, he thought of his travels these past two months and the life he had started to build. 

He wanted to experience that again, to travel and live only for himself. 

For now though, his little Mymble feet were too small to carry him quite so far, and his little Mymble heart wanted only to stay with his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading, the kudos, bookmarks, and comments! 
> 
> If you like this story please let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Tomorrow is going to be another Camelliaverse story, but something very different too! I hope you enjoy!


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